A Strange Turn Of Events
It is the Eighth hour by the Shadow on Lanternglow, the 7th day of Stormclaw in the year 627. It is a quite cold evening as the sun sets beyond the horizon to the west. The air is stagnant, not stirring with the slightest breeze. A few wispy cirrus clouds streak the otherwise clear sky. 'Main Deck ' ---- ::Sixty feet long and wide enough for three to stand abreast between the ship's two poleman's pits, this river cutter's oak deck is scarred with the wear of many journeys and almost as many battles. ::Forward, the prow looms upward to form a protective barrier of thick wood - to provide cover for archers, for example, or to reinforce the ship for use as a ram. As the keel curves up into its aggressive forward wedge, it forms two sides of a cabin with a pair of hatches, normally securely fastened, set in the angled decking. ::A similar hatch rests to port, leading to the crew quarters below deck, while the low rising swell of wood that acts as the captain's cabin rests towards the aft of the vessel, a heavy wooden door closing it off from the rest of the vessel. ::Finally, looming tall and proud over the deck below stands the mast of the Pride of Darkwater; centrally located, it remains roughly seventy-percent of the length of the sailplan, with multiple triangular headsails and a reeving bowsprit. Black silk forms that which the sails are made from, granting the river cutter a degree of striking elegance that befits her position within the Darkwater Fleet. ---- On the 7th day of Stormclaw, 627 years after the Aegis was erected the sight of the Pride of Darkwater is not as pathetic as it had been a week previously. The fair sized hole made in its lower port side has been patched up with wood that almost completely matches the ship except for the fact that it is not weathered at all. Lucius Nepos, second in command of the expedition, stands on a small temporary wooden platform constructed under the former hole, helping to seal it up. Syton leans over the railing, standing a few steps forward along the port side. "That looks good," he comments towards Lucius with a smile, seeming as chipper as ever. "When will we be ready to push off of this rock and get moving?" "Tonight. We're caulking up the stern section of this bloody whole and then we move off right after. Which means you'll need to be manning oars. Most of us will, actually. I need to be watching for that bloody creature that grounded us in the first place, with Hugo." Lucius says with some irritation in his voice, though he seems to be generally happy about the fact that they'll be moving again. "Excellent!" Syton replies, sounding pleased. "I never thought I would be happy to row, but if it means getting out of this place..." He looks from Lucius to the shoreline for a moment, narrowing his eyes against the darkness. "We have not seen the Wraith since the attack... I hope, at least, that we may leave it behind for a time." "Yes. Until Shardwood reappears and drags that bloody thing back into the open. I hope she's able to destroy what she dragged out of.. wherever she went. The Drakes didn't seem pleased. If a Drake is not pleased, there is something /seriously/ wrong." Lucius comments, smoothing the last bit of sealant. He moves to climb back up the netting that is draped over the side of the ship. "Master Wolfsbane and I spoke with her last night," Syton says, frowning briefly, "and she has no idea what it is, where it came from, or how to kill it... only a feeling that she is responsible for it being here." He stands up off the railing and stretches briefly. "So I gather that there is nothing left to do but move on." Lucius Nepos shakes his head after he's up on the deck oncemore. The Deeper who was working next to him detatches the platform from the ship, kicking it towards a nearby group of rocks as he too climbs the netting. "Nope. Nothing really. That's why the Shadow is bad. Because in essense, it /is/ evil. People aren't, but the Shadow itself is. There's no bloody /Light/ wraiths!" "None out here, at least," Syton adds with a little chuckle. He looks around the deck, then back to Lucius. "So how do we get moving? Just start rowing?" Emerging from the lower decks comes one of the resident rangers of the boat, boots thumping on the wood as he straightens. He rubs at his forehead with a hand as he looks about, shifting his weight on his feet. "We all must push at once on those rocks to get the ship back into the river. We're really not badly stuck, anyways, and now we're safe. So, get your ores and point the paddle away from the rocks." Lucius says, grabbing an oar of his own and turning it around. "Wonderful," Syton says ebulliently, heading over to the bow to take an oar. He hefts it across his narrow shoulders and walks over to the port railing, finding a position near the closest rock. "Waiting on your word," he calls to Lucius. Wolfsbane fixes his attention at the goingons at the bow of the ship, and moves to approach, eyes flitting between Lucius and Temple. He doesn't speak for the meantime, instead staying silent, save for the thuds of his boots. "We must all push at once. It'll put all the pressure against the rocks at the same moment and give us the thrust necessary. So, on three. Wolfsbane, get a bloody oar. One." Lucius says, wielding his backward oar like a polearm, over his head. His feet are planted. He seems to have noticed Vhramis even though he hasn't looked at him. "Two." He breathes deep. "Master Wolfsbane," Syton greets between counts. He turns and puts his oar against the rock, gripping his end of it firmly. He braces his body against it as he awaits Lucius's signal, prepared to push. Vhramis continues moving forward, snapping up a loose ore as directed, and stretching it down over the edge of the boat to prop it against a spare bit of rock. Blinking to Temple, he grasps the wood handle, waiting. "Three." With that word spoken, Lucius lowers his stance a bit further and pushes forward with all his might. At the same time, most of the Deepers on deck do the same thing, using all their force. Syton grunts and puts his back into it, pushing off against the rock with the other crewmembers. Diminutive as he is, though, it's not obvious exactly how much good he's doing. Vhramis watches the others as they push, and adds his effort to the collaberation, leg muscles bulging as he shoves hard against the ore. Combined with everybody else, Syton, Vhramis and Lucius do very much good as they push off the rocks with the backs of their oars. The ship sways for a moment before dropping down back into the water. There is a thud and a big sway of the ship as it lands. Lucius Nepos manages to keep on is feet, if only barely. So do most of the rest of the sailors, except for a scattered one or two who fall down but quickly get back up. "Row! Let's move!" Says the Constable, smiling widely and raising his hand up in the air in triumph. He passes his oar to a sailor. Dradin, who has been pushing along with the rest of them, slides a little but remains on both feet as the boat rocks. "Hoy!" he shouts to Lucius's command, offering the oar to someone more capable of rowing. He walks toward the railing to look at the waters below. Syton seems to be expecting the bobbing and swaying of the ship. He supports himself against the railing for a moment, then quickly descends into one of the poleman's pits. He takes a seat gracelessly, slots his oar awkwardly, and begins to row inefficiently. Vhramis stands there holding the ore afterwards, staring at it for a moment, before drawing it up and returning it to it's resting position. He glances at the gathered, jubilant sailors, and can't help but smile a bit himself as the boat begins moving again after it's long period of stagnency. Lucius Nepos jerks his index finger at Dradin. "Oh no Gale, you're rowing. Take that bloody thing back and sit yourself down. Watch the man in front of you and follow his tempo. I am not rowing because I need to keep watch for that bloody wraith. All hands, man your stations!" Quite the sailor he is, grasping his iron spear by its throwing strap now. "Wot 'appened to me bein' lookout," Dradin mutters as he grabs the oar back and walks to the rowing benches, slumping onto one and starting to row. "Come now, rowing can be fun too. Anything other than sitting on that rock." Syton grins over to Dradin as he rows. He does not seem to really know what he's doing, but he certainly does look happy to be doing it. He wasn't specifically yelled at, so Vhramis slips away from the ores, following after Lucius. He regards the soldier curiously in silence for a few moments, before he adds, "You sound a bit like Duke Lomasa." "You're a bloody terrible lookout. Speak up against it again and I'll smack you a good one, Gale." Lucius says sternly, moving to the port of the ship. Hugo Wheat, similarly garbed, moves towards the starboard and the both of them watch out with purpose. The ship glides along the river once again, after a full week stationary, and all seems to be good. He chuckles at Vhramis, though, not looking to him. "That's not very good." "Rowin'? Fun? Feh." Dradin grumbles, not responding to Lucius's threat. "S'a right pain in the arse, rowin'. You think they'd make summat wot did it for you." "They do, my friend, and we are it," Syton says to Dradin, seeming confused by his own comment for a brief moment before shaking his head and returning his attention to his oar. "Excuse me," he calls up towards Lucius, "but how long do you think it will be until we reach Crown's Refuge?" "Well..I didn't mean it like that," Wolfsbane answers with a small frown, rubbing at his chin with his palm. "Just that, I heard someone mention that they imagine him standing at the bow of the ship, making a silly sort of pose in trying to look heroic, his eyes fixed down the river. I guess they were making fun of him." He blinks at that before looking over towards Syton as he calls. "A good week, I reckon. The river gets a bit faster a head of here though, so it could be a bit less than that." Answers Lucius, scanning the darkened countryside. He alternately grips the spear tightly and then relaxes, over and over, ignoring Dradin. "Yeah well, me standin' here has a purpose, aye?" Dradin grumbles a little and keeps rowing, scowling at the back of the man in front of him. "Yeah. Was just saying," the ranger shrugs sheepishly at that. "..Was just saying something. I can't remember why. I'm sure it was relevant when I thought of it. Anyway." He reaches to drum his fingers over the railing of the boat, humming a few bars of some tune. Syton continues to row, managing to stay quiet for nearly four seconds before speaking again. "I am not sure that I have met you, yet," he says to Dradin cheerfully, "Master... Gale, was it? Syton Temple. Pleasure to meet you." Lucius Nepos smirks at Vhramis's insistance. "Oh, don't worry about it Vhramis. Hey, maybe you should watch the night instead of me. Your eyes are better, bein' a ranger and all. I don't mind rowing." He turns to walk towards Vhramis. Without warning, a curious turn of events takes place. Curious in that the ambiance upon the deck of the Pride of Darkwater is accompanied by a somewhat odd noise, namely that of a soft "hiss" like fabric being torn, and then a muffled *whump* as a body makes contact with timber decking. And then, right before Lucius's eyes, Vhramis collapses. Lucius Nepos is rather dumbstruck when Vhramis falls down on the ground. He is equally baffled at the curious ripping noise, but given the light situation can't see very much from where he is. So, in proper soldierly fashion the man jogs towards Wolfsbane's prostate form, tucking his shield and weapons away as he examines the scene. "Keep rowing!" He yells. Syton, of course, stops rowing, if you could call his spastic oar manipulation "rowing." He pulls his oar in, keeping it clear of the others, and stands up in the poleman's pit. The ship does not seem any the lesser for having lost his attention. Syton looks from Lucius to Vhramis's unconscious body with a puzzled expression. "Nice to meet y--" Dradin stops as he hears the thump and looks. "Hoy! Master Wolfsbane awright?" He keeps the tempo of the rowing, raising eyebrows toward the scene. "That's.. odd. Wheat!" Lucius yells across the deck. The other soldier comes a running. "Bring him below deck. I guess he's tired or summat. Convenient, too." The man grunts and then takes up Vhramis's fallen oar. "Let's keep 'er steady.' "Lucius," Syton interjects, sounding firm, despite having turned a shade paler. "Something /bad/ just happened." He climbs out of the poleman's pit. "That noise was not right, and neither is he. He is a /tough/ man. I have a bad feeling about all of this. It is just not right." "Keep rowing. There's nothing else to be done, unless you've some brilliant idea. Because there are none that I can think of. We bring him downstairs. He's out, he's alive. That's it." Despite his objection, Lucius nods his helmeted head. "You might well be right. But we're in no position to do anything. Keep rowing." Syton steps closer to Lucius. He keeps his voice down, at least quiet enough that /all/ the men can't hear him. "We should stop the boat," he says, speaking at a rapid pace. "At least slow it down enough to take a look around. There is plenty of moonlight tonight. Maybe we will see something. That thing could be out there--or maybe it is something else--but I /really/ think we need to take a look." Thayndor Zahir appears from aft, where he had been directing the pilot. "Nepos," he says. "Report." "Why, do you have a particular inkling, Temple? Light, we've only been stopped for seven bloody days." Lucius grumbles, pushing up with a gloved hand from the ground. He swings his gaze around to Thayndor. "After we pushed off from the rock we rowed for a few minutes fine. I suggested that Vhramis should take my sentry post because his eyes are likely sharper than mine. I heard a ripping noise and he collapsed. There's no rip in his shirt or trousers." Diligently, he says this to Thayndor. Syton opens his mouth to reply to Lucius, but he cuts himself off at Thayndor's arrival. He just frowns thoughtfully and looks about, scanning the darkness suspiciously. "Bring him aft," Thayndor replies. "Master Temple, it is far better to be a moving target than a sitting duck. We will continue forward." The Zahir frowns. "Where's Shardwood when she could be of actual use ... Rendis! Fetch her." One of the men in the obsidian ringmail of Thayndor's personal guard nods and moves below; for his part, the Zahir reaches back to the quiver under his cloak, drawing his longbow. "What kind of ripping sound?" he asks. "Flesh or fabric?" A pause, then, "Deepers, to arms! Lookouts, don't lean too far over the water, eh?" "It sounded like fabric. Flesh ripping has an entirely different sound, and he is unwounded." Lucius says, lifting a finger up to his comrade in arms, Wheat, who kneels over and slings Vhramis over his armoured shoulders in a 'fireman' type carry. Wheat moves towards the back of the ship. Lucius says to Thayndor, "We've another week of this. I wish we'd a Scourge on the trip to rid us of this beast." Wolfsbane hangs limply over Wheat's shoulder, the man unmoving and completely unresponsive. Though he breathes normally, he's no more than a vegetable, really, one of his arms swaying a bit with each step the man takes. Syton just nods to Thayndor in understanding. He continues to frown as he returns to his bench in the poleman's pit and prepares to resume his rowing. His attention, however, remains with Lucius and Thayndor, who he looks back to frequently. "Think about what we have rather than what we don't, Master Nepos," Thayndor chides mildly. "It would be more productive." He looks down at Vhramis, frowning, as Wheat carries him past. "See to it he is guarded." Thayndor takes a few steps towards the prow, reaching back to clear his cloak from the top of his quiver for easy access to arrows. "Looks like some sort of poison to me. Doubtless the cut was smaller than what you can see by moonlight. Get Shardwood tending to him and keep an eye out tonight ... whatever is hunting us seeks to cut our numbers slowly." He grins back at Lucius. "Would you do that if you were strong enough to wipe out an enemy in a single attack? What we are facing here is something that can be defeated." The Zahir exhales, brows knitting as he watches moonlight shimmer on the waters of the Jadesnake. "If we can outsmart it." "I would do that whether I could defeat them in a quick battle or not. It's more efficient to bleed an enemy slowly and then attack them when they're too weak to resist. I don't think there's poison.. I mean, we're not in good light but there were no cuts on his body that /I/ could see. Or feel. More importantly." Lucius offers a shrug of his armoured shoulders, swinging his shield off of his back and his arm through its strap. His other hand grasps an iron spear and he watches the path of the ship. "Indeed." It starts with a small twitch of Wolfsbane's left foot. The body falls still again for a few moments, before he erupts into motion, straightening and making an effort to stand up - though, of course, he's being carried. As such, he thrashes hard against Wheat's shoulder, likely knocking the man to the deck, unless he's particularly balanced. "What?" the ranger blurts out, eyes snapping wide. Syton is nearly to the point of refocusing on his oar when Vhramis comes to. Though his arms continue to move, the oar is all but forgotten. It is quite likely that it isn't even touching the water anymore. Once again, the ship does not seem terribly hurt for it. Syton sits up straight in his bench and strains to get a better look at the ranger, a curious--almost disappointed--look on his face. "Oh good," Thayndor chirps pleasantly. "He's awake. Wolfsbane, how do you feel?" Thayndor's eyes don't leave the water over the prow. Wheat indeed tumbles to the ground, letting out a stream of obscenities that would make /any/ of the Deepers proud. Lucius himself is far too busy, at least in his estimation, watching the riverbank and all that floats past. He does venture, "Feel any rips in your clothing, Vhramis?" Ronis looks over to the one female Deeper, Shar. She folds her arms. He raises his eyebrows. They both look over at Wheat appraisingly for a long moment, then nod. The jarring blow of striking deck brings the ranger back to his senses better than all the yelling, the man blinking as the surprise passes. He rises to his feet after untangling himself from the other man. "Er..sorry," he states, offering his hand to Wheat to help him up. "I'm fine," he adds, raising his voice to the others. "Well, you look fantastic," Syton quips towards Vhramis. His oar clacks loudly against another, stealing the freelander's attention for a moment. He puts a bit more effort into his rowing for the time being. "That was a bit odd. Keep on rowing, people, keep up the steady pace!" Lucius bellows to the rest of the crew, while he stands close to (but not right next to) the edge of the ship, watching out. It is much like sentry duty in the Blades except the assignment is moving. Wheat gets up, grumbling to himself and moves to take his sentry station on the opposite side of the ship. "Since you're fine, Wolfsbane, maybe you'd like to tell us all what just happened," Thayndor replies. Wolfsbane presses his hand to his chest experimentally, frowning a bit, before he abruptly looks relieved. Sighing, he turns his attention to Thayndor. "Val'sharax is coming back. It seems he wants those swords instead. So I'm going to give them to him, and then he's going to leave." Syton continues to row, though he keeps an ear tilted back towards the conversation. "Well isn't that.. just splendid. Maybe he wants to put them up on his mantle so that he can admire them while he warms himself in front of the fire." Lucius theorizes with sarcasm in his voice. Thayndor replies, "I don't suppose we -- or you -- get anything in return?" "I didn't get anything in return, no," Vhramis answers with a small shake of his head, glancing to Lucius briefly. "Nor did it have anything to do with the expedition." Syton hums thoughtfully, then turns away from the conversation to look down at his oar. He whistles tunelessly as his mind returns to the task at hand. Thayndor Zahir exhales. "Very well," he says. "At least we know you weren't attacked. I know dealing with drakes can be ... touchy. But if there is any way you can glean more information from Val'sharax about what exactly is after us, it would be appreciated." "I don't think Val'sharax really cares anymore. He told us that it was a Shadow wraith released from some other realm and it was chasing us. More specifically, chasing Shardwood I think." Lucius doesn't quite catch Vhramis's gaze as he is busy watching the distance. "Hmm. Reperations for Norran's big mouth?" "He won't help us," Vhramis nods in agreement with Lucius. "You're right. He doesn't care, one way or the other. We're rather inconsequential to him." With a small shrug, he moves over to the side of the deck, peering off to the sky thoughtfully. "Not reperations, no." "That's surprising. Norran really doesn't know when to shut his mouth sometimes. You should have seen him, Thayndor, talking to the Drake like they were old army buddies or something." Lucius grins wryly. "It would've been hilarious if Val'sharax wasn't a massive Drake capable of levelling Fastheld in the blink of an eye." "I've come to expect that from Duke Lomasa," Thayndor replies evenly. "But his headfirst approach to life can be an asset." Thayndor turns aft. "I'll be in my quarters. wake me if anything else happens." Wolfsbane nods slightly at that to Lucius, before shrugging in response to Thayndor. Perhaps he looks a bit skeptical, though he doesn't voice any other thoughts on it, instead keeping focused on the sky. He stands by the railing midship, while Lucius is at one end, keeping watch. Lucius Nepos doesn't say anything either, now that he's quietly back to watching. Celeste pushes up the trapdoor, the obsidian armor firmly in place as she looks about the deck. Her hand holding the wood door firmly until she exits, allowing it to drop back into place. Looking off towards the river, she moves towards Wolfsbane. Syton is seated in the front bench along the port side of the ship, rowing and whistling with an absent expression. He seems to be getting the hang of it, finally, but he also seems to be much more worn-out than the Deepers. Vhramis half turns about at the sound of the approaching woman, her armor making her fairly easily heard. "Evening," he greets after a moment of looking, before looking back up to the sky. "How are you?" "I'm doing well this evening, Vhramis, and you?" Celeste inquires. Her hands coming to rest on the railing as she looks up towards the sky, nibbling on her lower lip. The shifting of armor as it brushes against one another causing little notice of the Mikin as she offers Wolfsbane a slight smile. "Oh, well enough," Wolfsbane replies with a small shrug. "Same old, as always, when it comes down to it." He considers his words for a few moments, before he laughs softly. Syton comes out of his reverie at the sound of Celeste's voice. He turns to look up at her and smiles. "Good evening, Celeste," he calls up to her from the poleman's pit. Once again, as his attention goes elsewhere, the effectiveness of his rowing suffers. Celeste looks over to the poleman's pit, smiling at the freelander. "You seem to be getting better at that, Syton." Looking back over the water, she sends a sideglance towards Vhramis. "How far out would you say we are now?" "Oh..I lost track of it, to be truthful," Wolfsbane replies with a small shrug. "Since we got stuck, that is. I bet Thayndor would know, though. Though he just went to his cabin, to sleep. Or something." "We are a little less than a week out of Crown's Refuge," Syton contributes cheerfully, still going through the motions of rowing. "Of course, that depends on the wind, the current, and any Shadow Wraith attacks." Celeste looks over her shoulder towards the freelander. "So have you seen it again, Syton? It truly sounds as though you've gotten your sea legs." Again, she nibbles on her lower lips as she looks over towards Wolfsbane. "And part of me finds myself wanting to inquire as to the -or something else," she states with a sigh. The soft rap of her hand on the railing as she looks up at the stars and then to the water. With a small shrug, Wolfsbane smiles faintly to Celeste, before turning about to wordlessly trudge off to the stairs leading belowdeck. ---- ''Return to Season 5 (2007) Category:Logs